


I'll Run

by Luna_of_Legend



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: AU, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Hitman!Ishimaru, M/M, Mondo is still the SHSL Biker Gang Leader, Murder, Suicide, The Moral Compass is just a cover-up, ishimondo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25438633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_of_Legend/pseuds/Luna_of_Legend
Summary: Based on "Run to You" by Pentatonix. Kiyotaka Ishimaru is the Ultimate Hitman, masquerading as a Moral Compass. He finally connects with someone in a way he never has before, but at what cost?
Relationships: Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo
Comments: 17
Kudos: 72





	I'll Run

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy my first AO3 post! The idea hit me hard while I was listening to this song, so I had to write out my idea!

It is surprisingly difficult to focus right now, Kiyotaka finds… In all honesty, he has no idea why he is still here. Is there any reason for someone with no future to sit in class and pretend to care? The work is easy enough, even if it is hard to write with the same hand that has taken countless lives… It is easy to lose himself in those thoughts. The memories that often felt more like nightmares.

Knowing how it feels when the knife pierces skin, how fresh blood smells, how it looks to watch the light of life leave someone’s eyes, how one’s final shuddering breath truly sounds… These are senses that constantly haunt the teen. But they haunt in an almost too familiar way… While they used to send him to sleep in tears, they now simply live in his mind as a parasite: annoying and draining, but tolerable. But right now, that parasite has decided to completely overtake his brain, and he is reminded of the job he completed just the night before. 

He stood in a small apartment, cold red eyes staring down at the limp body of a strange man. He knew no specifics besides the man’s name and address when he took the job, and he had needed nothing else. But the family photos on the decorative shelf did not go unnoticed. The messy highchair and the finger paintings on the fridge caught Ishimaru’s eyes as he wiped down any evidence of his presence. The waking cries of an infant in the next room were the last things that he heard as he made his escape. 

It is normal now, but never easy. There is no chasing thrills or bloodthirst, only a desperate need for the funds. Funds to pull his family back out of the debts that his corrupt grandfather had burdened them all with. It wasn’t a hard job to find himself in, anyway. Ishimaru had always had a way of getting people to trust him, and he knew how to use that when it was necessary. He was a very athletic and agile child as well, and he was just barely twelve when he completed his first job as a hitman. It had now been five years. Five years of Kiyotaka’s life has been filled with the death and despair of others, but it was simply a bloody road toward hope, right? 

“Hey, you awake there?”

Intense ruby eyes finally lift from his desk and look up to meet a muted lavender hue. Mondo Oowada, the leader of Japan’s most notorious biker gang: The Crazy Diamonds. 

_ A light in the room. _

_ It was you who was standing there. _

__ “Guess you are. It’s time to head out, y’know,” The rougher voice tells him, hands stuck in his pants pockets. Taka tries to read the look in his eyes. He sees a lot of confusion, with swirls of curiosity and concern. Easy enough.

“Ah! Thank you for letting me know!” Ishimaru is quick to put on his mask: that of the Ultimate Public Morals Committee Member. Honestly, this is the one thing that keeps him in school. He knows he is already set for life with his true gifts, but the title gave him a lot of good cover. Who would expect the hands of the Moral Compass himself to be so deeply stained red? In truth, it is not a hard mask to bear. As long as he hands out a few detention slips, watches his language, and attends a club meeting twice a week, he can maintain the charade. Right now, he fakes the brightest smile he can manage and stands up out of his chair, collecting his things. It dawns on him that they are the only two still in the room, the only sound coming from the commotion of students outside and the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. So, Taka takes it upon himself to break that silence.

“I suppose I lost myself in my thoughts!” At least it wasn’t a lie. 

“You sure you’re good? It is obvious that the biker does not want his worry to be obvious, but all of those cards are more than laid out on the table in the eyes of the Ultimate Hitman. It is hard to hide one’s skeletons from someone who can see right through those doors. Still, Ishimaru can humor him, letting out a good-natured, hearty laugh.

“Thank you, I am!” He slings his bag over his shoulder and exits the classroom, with Mondo walking alongside him. For a moment, it seems that the chatting will end here.

“Ishimaru, right?” The supposed hall monitor glances up toward the taller boy, realizing he is again being addressed. 

“Yes, that is correct! And you are Oowada-kun, if I am not mistaken!” Might as well make the guy think they’re on the same mental wavelength, right?

“Yeah, you got me.. Course, you’ve written my name on enough slips to know it by now, huh?”

Kiyotaka feels the need to read Mondo’s expression for that one. There is definitely some truth there, after all. Hope’s Peak has its fair share of troublemakers, he has come to find, and it is no surprise that a gang leader would be among them. There may be a little bitterness in there, but it seems minute, largely overshadowed by the casual tone. It feels most appropriate to likewise respond with a joke.

“And whose fault would that be?” Ishimaru responds with a cocked brow and a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he tries to meet that lilac gaze. The moment their eyes lock again, and Mondo grins right back, he knows that the intent has been communicated.

_ Tried it was true _

_ As your glance met my stare. _

* * *

Life works in funny ways. One moment, you’re on your own, as you have been for as long as you can remember. The closest you ever get to hanging out with people are your club meetings and occasionally supervising detention. The only person you might call close is your father, who has been too emotionally distant even for that since mom was found dead… Then all of a sudden, someone has snuck their way past your walls and has sat themselves right there beside you.

Sure, it had started with small quips and questions like the first time, but before Kiyotaka knew what was happening, he was sitting with Mondo at lunch, and even walking with him out to his bike. He surprised himself when he accepted the offer of a ride home, and when he accepted every time they were leaving at the same time. 

_ “You’re not even wearing a helmet!” _

__ _ “Aw, c’mon, I’ve been doin’ this forever. Besides, I’ve only got the one helmet right now.” _

__ _ “...Fine. But promise me that you get another helmet for yourself for next time!” _

__ _ “Next time..?” There was a pause, and then that dumb smile.. “Yeah, I can agree to that.” _

This was dangerous, and the hitman knew it. They had each other’s phone numbers by now, and every day, he would type out the same message:

“This needs to stop.”

But he never sent it. He would stare at it for minutes, maybe hours, before deleting it and biting back a sob as he would draw his knees into his chest. But he would never cry. No, emotions are weak spots in an opponent. He knows all too well the dangers of letting someone see what makes you tick. Emotions have gotten people killed, in his experience. So he pours his tears into a bottle and corks it tightly before he places it with the hundreds of others just like it. 

Kiyotaka has accepted that he cares a lot about Mondo, maybe more than he has ever cared about a classmate before. All of the quiet, heartfelt conversations they have shared about the biker’s deceased brother, and about Taka’s own familial loss, paired with the surprising amount of laughter that Oowada has pulled out of his throat, it is all exciting, terrifying, and new for the boy.

Exciting because he knows now how it feels to care about someone who cares so much back.

Terrifying because he is leaving himself vulnerable.

New because he has never had a friend before…

New also because, after three months of this friendship, these feelings have evolved into something even more confusing. There are nights where all the boy can think about is Mondo: his laugh with that chipped smile, his energetic and raucous voice, the flash of passion in his eyes when he talks about the gang, and the way his arms feel when they wrap around the shorter teen’s shoulders, it all tends to come crashing in on Ishimaru all at once in a way that he can not fathom. But like his tears, these are feelings that he bottles up and stores away.

Getting any closer to Mondo would be a danger to them both. On Kiyotaka’s end, it would mean someone else who might figure out his dirty little secret. It was hard enough keeping everything under wraps when his father was a police officer, it would be too much! Besides, he hates lying. He does hate lying about what his ultimate talent is, but it is necessary for him to pay off the family debts! Even if it hurts to look people in the eye and deceive them. To look  _ Mondo _ in the eye, and deceive him…

_ “Guess that explains all the detentions, huh?” _

_ A small laugh. “Yeah… so-” _

_ “Look, if you’re ok, then I’m ok. You’re not too bad, honest.” _

_ “... Ok.” _

And now here they are, in Kiyotaka’s room, just sitting together in a comfortable silence. They can both tell that there are words that the other wants to say, but no one can bring themselves to speak, both facing each other on the bed, cross-legged. Mondo’s knuckles are slowly and methodically cracked, something Taka picked up early on as being one of his nervous tics, while Kiyotaka rubs the end of his uniform sleeve between his fingers. 

“Listen-”

“Look-”

They stare at one another, both having started at the same time, and they share a chuckle. 

“Go ahead-”

“You can g-”

This chuckle is more of a laugh. Something that they desperately needed to relieve the stifling tense atmosphere between them.

“Ok, ok, I’m going,” Mondo cuts in, quieting the smaller of the two. Despite his words, he takes a few moments to gather his thoughts. His face seems a bit flush, and Kiyotaka has to wonder why he is still wearing that jacket if he is so warm, and-

“Look, I know it’s already pretty weird, what we’ve got goin’ on here. But uh..” Another pause. Slowly, very slowly, Kiyotaka is figuring out what this is.

And he is  _ terrified _ .

“All right, dancin’ around the issue ain’t helpin’, so look, Taka, I’m takin’ you out for dinner and a night ride this Friday. Ok?”

Despite the confidence forced into his voice, the hitman can see through it. He can see how much preparation Mondo probably put into saying this one thing. He can see the fear of rejection hidden in that demeanor. But regardless, this is too risky. He knows that this could mean. There is no way that he can say-

“I’d love to.”

* * *

One date turned into two, then three, and then Kiyotaka has to wonder if the number over the next year might rival his body count. Kiyotaka Ishimaru and Mondo Oowada, one of the most (seemingly) unlikely duos, are approaching their one-year anniversary. 

It had been an insane ride thus far, one that terrified Kiyotaka more than anything he has ever experienced, but it’s the ride of his life all the same. It took a while for Takaaki to adjust to the kind of guy his son had brought home, but he eventually saw what the boy could see in Mondo. On the other hand, Mondo had surprised Kiyotaka on their six-month anniversary with an honorary spot in the Crazy Diamonds. Most of the gang got along with him pretty well, and it felt nice, being surrounded by so many loving people. 

There were some big plans being made for the Crazy Diamonds too. Of course, Mondo had explained that he understood how uncomfortable Taka might be, being in a gang with his views on morals. So, they had been working together for a while on how to reinvent the biker gang into something more helpful to society. Though it would never be legal, exactly, Kiyotaka had verbally decided that good could still be done! Thus, it would become something of a vigilante group, lowering crime instead of raising it. Of course, it would still mostly be just for fun, but the couple was very excited about the heights they could both bring the gang to.

But despite the new friendships, the new goals, and the blossoming feelings of love that have overtaken the hitman’s cynically jaded heart, there is still an underlying sensation of unmatched fear. Because he still has not told the truth. Every time he decides to do it, Mondo has to pull off some romantic gesture, or Takemichi tags along with them, and before Kiyotaka knows it, months upon months of lies have piled up. It hurts to wash blood off his hands right before getting dressed for a date. It hurts to change plans while he sharpens his knife, claiming he needs to spend more time with his father. It  _ hurts _ to keep lying to the man he loves so much…

_ “Mondo, can we talk?” _

__ _ “Yeah, of course, Taka. But just a sec-” _

__ _ The next thing Kiyotaka sees is a bright red helmet, decorated with shimmering gold paint accents, and the kanji of “leader” in a beautifully bright white. _

__ _ “Michi’s still my right hand man, course, but I want you to lead the guys with me. Thought I’d put this together to make it official.” _

__ _ Taka takes it, handling it like the finest porcelain as he stares. _

__ _ “You made this..?” _

__ _ “Well, painted it.. Look, I can go back over it if-” _

__ _ “No! No… Mondo, this is beautiful… Thank you” _

__ _ “Oh! Ha, no sweat! So, you wanted to talk?” _

__ _ “... It isn’t important.” _

__ _ “You sure?” _

__ _ “Yeah…” _

__ _ “Well, all right then… If you’re ok, I’m ok.” _

__ He can’t keep doing this. This needs to stop. But Kiyotaka can not help but be afraid. He doesn’t want to have to choose, but he does not want to lose Mondo, nor this chance to free his family from the shackles of debt and ruin. 

But he loves Mondo too much to keep the lie going any longer.

He had called his boyfriend to come over out of the blue, while he still had the nerve to do it. His father was still at work, so he could avoid having to tell two people in the same day, but that did not make this much easier.

So, here they are, seated on his bed in the same way they had sat a year ago. But the tension in the air is different. There is no nervous laughter and dorky grins, just apprehension and a suffocating suspense as Mondo patiently waits for whatever it is Taka needs to get off of his chest.

“I… lied,” he starts, the slightest of breaks in his voice as he begins his confession. He can see Mondo’s jaw tense, those lavender eyes widening only slightly, but he is silent. Likely wanting to know more before he decides to go off or not.

“... I am not the Ultimate Public Morals Committee Member.” He hates saying it, but what he hates more is the look of relief that washes over the biker’s expression. If only it could end there. If only the lies stopped right there, and then they could kiss, make up, and move on, but-

“Babe, that’s fine, it’s not a-”

“I’m the Ultimate Hitman.”

The rest of Mondo’s sentence appears to have been stolen right from his lips as the words register. As it dawns on the man what this has to mean. But Kiyotaka decides to answer his burning questions for him.

“I have been a hitman since the age of twelve. It’s how I have been paying off the family debt. No one outside of you and the person who recruited me knows.

_ But your heart drifted off, _

_ Like the land split by sea. _

__ Taka feels the mattress shift, and he watches as Mondo stands up from it, face twisted in a horrifying mixture of confusion, anguish, and hurt. It breaks Taka’s heart beyond reason. But it is not his heart that matters right now…

“So, what? Is this some kind of long con? Is this your attempt to finish the job??”

“No!” Taka gets up from the bed now too, and Mondo instinctively takes a step away from him. Ishimaru can not blame him. “No, all of that was real. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but.. But I was afraid.” He wants to cry, but he refuses to. Another bottle on the shelf. He can not allow himself that kind of relief.

He can watch as words fail the man he loves, as his hands don’t know whether to punch the wall or throw the door open to leave. The latter is chosen.

_ I tried to go, to follow, _

_ To kneel down at your feet... _

__ “Mondo, please, wait!” Pale hands grab the back of that signature jacket, and for a moment, it seems to have worked. The retreating figure halts in his tracks. Briefly, Kiyotaka believes that this might be all right. That he didn’t ruin their relationship beyond repair, that-

“I need space, Ishimaru…” Though he can’t see the man’s face, Taka can hear the pain, as far back as it is being held. He wants to let go right there, but he can’t. He can’t let go. He can’t lose this.  _ He can’t lose the one thing that has brought him joy in this miserable life! _

But he knows this is selfish. 

“...Will you be ok?” Taka asks softly, knuckles white as his grip remains. A long and heavy pause follows his words, only broken by an equally heavy sigh.

“I don’t know…”

Thin, shaking fingers release the leather. And in a moment, the front door opens, and then it closes again, leaving Kiyotaka entirely alone.

For a few very eternal seconds, all he can do is stand there. Stand there and realize what he has done. But as if he needs to know that this is real, and that this isn’t some horrible new nightmare his twisted mind has cooked up, he runs to the window.

_ I'll run, I'll run... _

__ He watches Mondo mount that ever familiar bike. He watches him sit there a little too long. He swears that he sees a shake in his hunched shoulders… He moves to run to the door.

_ I'll run, run to you... _

__ But by the time the door is swung open, a blur of gold, black, and bleached hair disappears down the road. Kiyotaka watches where the road disappears into the cityscape for an immeasurable amount of time, as if there is even a chance the man will return. But he never comes back. So Kiyotaka stiffly walks back into the house and shuts the door, rebuilding those walls that had once stood so proud around his heart.

* * *

“That’s an impressive amount of money for one target…”

A month has passed since that day, and Kiyotaka has decided to move on. He hasn’t heard a word from Mondo since then, only receiving the occasional glance at school. A glance that says he isn’t ready to face the moral comp-...the hitman yet. And Ishimaru is respecting that space, despite the pain that it brings him. The shelf of bottles has doubled, maybe tripled, but it doesn’t matter in the long run. It was stupid to think something so beautiful could ever exist in his life of destruction and ruin.

“Well, the fucker’s been tough to pin down! We think you’ve got the chops for it.”

So, he has returned to focusing on his work. He keeps up his facade at school, and appreciates that Mondo has apparently kept quiet about it, as he continues to take offers. He’s behind a wall, unseen by the client who has come to a secluded area of town that is known to be one of his meeting spots. No one else can ever find out, after all…

“Please, mind your language. Slip me the information, then. I will see what I can do.” Kiyotaka turns to actually face the dirtied barrier between him and his potential client, eyes darting to a slot right at the bottom where the end of an envelope now peeks out. He snatches it, opening it with deft fingers and removing the contents. 

_ I’ll run... _

__ Time stills around him as the picture first draws his eyes. A picture of an all too familiar man. A man who would flush no matter how many times he was told of his beauty, who took every opportunity to show off his reckless durability, who had stolen this hitman’s heart, caressed it, and then left it. 

The target is Mondo Oowada…

“Leader of the Crazy Diamonds. We need him out of our way. Been a thorn in our side for years, now, and we think you’re just the man for the job..”

_ I’ll run... _

Kiyotaka does his best to make sure nobody can hear how the papers shake in his hands. How he trembles at even the thought of what he is being tasked with. Of course, the decision is entirely in his hands. He can choose to turn this down and walk away. But the amount being offered is astronomical, likely enough to finish the debts for good! This would be everything that Kiyotaka has been working toward for the past six years now. He feels as though his body is being pulled on two sides, and that he is being forceful and violently torn down the middle by his long-term goals and his love for the man in the picture, now wrinkled from how tightly it is being pressed between Taka’s fingers. 

The choice is his. He knows this. And he has to choose now.

_ I’ll run, run... _

“I accept.”

_ To you. _

* * *

_ I’ve been settling scores. _

The silence between them had been broken with a simple text from the hitman himself.

**_Ishimaru:_ ** _ Hey… it’s been a while. Can we talk? _

__ _ There was no immediate answer, but maybe an hour later, he received a text in return. _

**_Oowada:_ ** _ Yeah. _

__ **_Oowada:_ ** _ In person? _

__ **_Ishimaru:_ ** _ Yes, if that’s all right…  _

__ _ Again, there was a lapse between messages. _

__ **_Oowada:_ ** _ Sure. Come over whenever. _

__ **_Ishimaru:_ ** _ All right, I will be there at eight. _

__ It is 7:00 at night when he reaches the familiar apartment. He had come over a few times, especially on the nights where Mondo missed Daiya the most. He knows he is early, but this is planned out. If Mondo happened to suspect anything, then any backup or support wouldn’t be here for at least another half hour at best. He subtly checks his back pocket for his freshly sharpened knife, confirming that it is there. He is going to make this as quick and painless as possible.

He approaches the door and knocks. There is shuffling inside, and a muffled call of “Just a sec!” before the door is opened a crack and Taka is greeted by that beautiful face. Even though it is devoid of its usual paint, he still can’t believe how gorgeous a man can be. And his hair has yet to be styled as well, pulled back into the rare sight of a messy ponytail instead. It hurts all the more, looking at Mondo, knowing what has to happen. No matter how many people he has already murdered, Kiyotaka Ishimaru doubts that all of the pain of those combined will match what he is about to endure. 

_ I’ve been fighting so long... _

Regardless, the door is fully opened despite some surprise at his early arrival, and he enters the apartment.

“Wasn’t expectin’ you for another hour, so uh… sorry about the mess,” His gruff voice sounds uncertain, as if he is carefully dancing around a field of landmines, and any one incorrect phrase or word might set one off. He can understand, however. They both might be in different minefields, but they are doing the same sort of dance in their heads.

“Sorry, I just… I really wanted to see you again. I guess I couldn’t wait another hour to talk.” The soft sympathy card. One he isn’t sure will work, considering everything, but it is a trick worth trying. Besides, there is truth to it. He did not want to lose his nerve by waiting.

The flush that creeps onto the biker’s cheeks almost makes Taka think that nothing has changed. But that’s a fool’s dream, and he knows it. The weight in his back pocket is more than proof of that on his own end. 

“Hey, that’s all right. Just caught me off guard is all..” Ishimaru watches as his target shuffles further into the apartment, toward the kitchen. It is very quiet, save for their light footsteps and the hum of the air conditioner at work. General ambience fills the awkward silence between them, until Mondo breaks it, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Can I, uh, get ya somethin’?” The kindness that Kiyotaka is being shown is only further worsening the ache in his chest. He wants to beg Mondo to be angry, to yell at him, to be the aggressively impulsive musclehead that he could be, but he isn't. He’s being the soft, selflessly generous sweetheart that Taka just had to go and fall head over heels for!!! He wants to scream at Mondo, to make the biker hate him, so that maybe this won’t hurt so badly. But he knows that will only make this man’s last few moments miserable. And that is the last thing that Mondo deserves…

“No, but thank you for offering.” The taller boy just sort of nods awkwardly before turning to get something for himself.

The offer alone settles in that empty cavity of Taka’s heart where a heart should be, yet it still makes the space feel that much emptier. He must have no heart, after all, to be going through with this. No, to have started this all those years ago. Kiyotaka realizes all too late that he is having second thoughts, and that alone almost sends him into a panic.

Suddenly, a flip switches, and it clicks in the hitman’s mind that Mondo’s back is turned.  _ He trusts him. _ No, he has left himself vulnerable, and if Taka is going to strike, it has to be now. Now, before he can turn back. Now, before Mondo turns around and looks at him with those eyes, and-

The next few moments happen outside of the construct of time. They happen both far too fast and far too slow. In a blur, and yet in so much detail. Too much detail.

He dashes forward in a light, fluid motion, while pulling the trusty knife out and flipping it open. Kiyotaka’s left arm hooks under Mondo’s to keep him still at the same time his right hand goes in for the kill: aiming straight for the carotid artery that he knows all too well. The sickening sound of the knife tearing into skin and tissue interrupts a confused grunt, transforming it into the most grotesquely coarse gasp of pain. 

And it is only after the deed is done that the Ultimate Hitman realizes he has missed his mark.

_ But I’ve lost your war. _

__ He waits for thrashing. For wildly thrown punches, any form of self defense as if the wound covering Taka’s knife and hand in blood is not fatal. But the target is still, save for the way his body trembles and shakes with its need for air. 

In that moment, Kiyotaka realizes that Mondo is choosing not to fight. And the most painful wave of regret crashes into his chest, tearing him open from the inside out. He lowers to the ground, coaxing Mondo down with him. Sitting on the tile and ignoring the constant spray of blood that is now covering the front of his once pristine uniform, he pulls Mondo’s head to his chest, cradling him there as though it will stop what is about to happen.

Every gargled attempt at a breath feels like the dying man’s attempts to stab Kiyotaka back. He wishes they were. But when Taka finally brings himself to meet those eyes, those once passionate, fiery violet eyes that he could admire for days on end, they hold such tenderness, despite the life beginning to flicker from just behind them. There is fear there too, but Mondo was never one to admit his fears out loud. No, but Kiyotaka always saw right through him anyway. But he has this sinking feeling that this hidden fear has little to do with pride or ego, and entirely to do with Taka. As if it may make this, in a twisted way, easier on him…

“Mondo…” His voice cracks, but he can not bring himself to care about the bottle that has tipped over, leaking a few droplets of its contents.

“Mondo, I’m so sorry… I thought-” For a moment, he can’t speak, something unseen lodged in his throat. He begs and pleads for it to be a rusted knife. But he knows this man would never… He was truly the better out of them.

“I-The offer would save my family. I thought… No, no, this wasn’t worth it. Mondo, I’m so sorry, I-” He is now fruitlessly trying to apply pressure to the wound, despite knowing full well that what he has done can not be stopped now. It is too late to turn back.

“Don’t be..” The voice is so strained, hanging on by a thread at this point. Every breath just sounds like torture, and Taka wishes he could feel the pain that he has put Mondo through. He wishes he could share the pain, at least, even though the horrible twisting chill in his chest makes him feel like a toxin, a curse, is spreading throughout his entire body: a curse that shows him the pain of every life he has ever taken, but without inflicting the damage that the murderer deserves. 

A violent cough erupts, continuing to paint Taka’s face and front with blood. The metallic scent and the foreign warmth of it is not new, but this time, he knows who it belonged to. And the thought has him trembling, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“Taka…” Bright ruby eyes meet those wilting lilacs, and they refuse to tear away despite how Ishimaru’s body is screaming at him to turn and run.

“.. ‘s all right...I mean...if you’re ok, I’m ok..right?” 

The familiar sentiment shocks him enough that he almost misses that final, longer shuddering exhale before the biker’s head falls fully into his chest, his entire body going slack in Kiyotaka’s arms.

_ And our kingdom is gone. _

The weight of what has just happened is crushing him. The kitchen counters are closing in on them, boxing them in this one spot. It has to be this claustrophobic air just around them that is causing Taka’s own lungs to repel the breath that it needs. His throat closes before forcing out an ugly, desperate sob.

The shelf topples, and every last bottle breaks open on the floor.

_ How shall I win back _

_ Your heart which was mine? _

Ishimaru cries and wails over the broken body that will never again know the thrill of a ride with the gang, or the warmth of the sun on a summer day. The body of a man that had shown Kiyotaka a side of life that he had never imagined deserving. That he didn’t deserve, but that he got to experience regardless. Mondo Oowada, who he loved. Who he loves.

And who will never love him back.

“I love you…” he whispers tearfully, fingers digging deeply into the leather of that signature jacket. He whispers this over and over between ugly sobs and needy gasps for air. He whispers it over, and over, and over, but he knows that he will never hear it again. He will never see those eyes look at him in a way that he still can not comprehend, and will never feel those strong arms hold him in a way that makes him believe that he is not a monster, and that he is safe, secure, and good. 

_ I have broken bones and tattered clothes _ .

Is the money truly worth this? This pain? Not Taka’s, but Mondo’s. What had his last thoughts been? Were those words genuine, or were they a mask of his own? Did he still love Kiyotaka, even in that final minute of life? 

It does not matter how many questions race through Ishimaru’s mind. No answer will ever come now.

He knows that he needs to get up. He needs to clean up the mess, bring proof of his kill to his client, retrieve the money, and-

…

And what? Live? 

_ I’ve run out of time. _

No. No, there is no living now. Not after this. Mondo deserves this life far more, and it is useless to think that, Taka knows, but he can at least even the score. He can make this right! And maybe… just maybe…

_ I'll run, I'll run... _

__ Maybe, if there is a life after death. Maybe, if he is even good enough to be wherever it is Mondo has appeared…

_ I'll run, run _ ...

They can meet again. And Kiyotaka can spend eternity trying to make up for this abomination of a transgression…

_ to you... _

In that moment, a plan falls into place. He knows what must be done, and even if it scares him, he knows that he no longer deserves to pity himself for it. The tears still pour as he pulls his secondary phone out of his pocket with bloodied fingers. Usually, he would be disgusted to touch it without cleaning up first. But it’s funny what doesn’t matter anymore when you know you’re about to die.

_ I'll run, I'll run... _

_ “I have completed the job, but I will not escape this alive. I will be attaching two addresses. The first is where our bodies will be found. The second is where I want you to leave the money. And when you get here, please take my phone and destroy it. Please, consider this a dying man’s final wish.” _

__ He sends this final message to his client, praying that he will have a moment of decency for the deceased and follow the orders. The money will make it to his father, and hopefully, the true nature of this meeting will not come to light. The Ishimaru name does not need any more disrepute, especially not because of him.

He considers sending a message to his father, but he hopes that the money will suffice. He can not wait any longer.

_ I'll run, run to you _ ...

Kiyotaka picks up the knife he had brought. It was beautiful, really, underneath all of the blood. The handle was black, with white swirls carved in up into the blade, where black is painted on to continue the beautiful pattern. Of course, he can not see any of that right now. 

For a moment, he wonders if this is truly what he should do. Why was this kill so much worse than the others? In the end, weren’t they all people? Weren’t they all people with hobbies, skills, goals, families, and loved ones? 

Kiyotaka makes the mistake of looking down again. Mondo’s head now lays on Taka’s thigh. Taka is reminded of the first time the biker fell asleep on him, during a movie night in this very apartment. He had been so flustered when he woke up, and he interrogated the supposed hall monitor endlessly about how he looked when he was asleep, just to make sure it wasn’t too embarrassing. Right now, he looks almost as peaceful. And every bone in Taka’s body wants to convince himself that he is. That Mondo is simply asleep, and that he will wake up, ask what the time is, and curse softly before trying to fall back asleep anyway.

But again, that would be a fool’s dream.

The aftershock of this anguish hits again, and he leans down to press his forehead against Mondo’s, the tears falling from his cheeks onto the other boy’s. He wails out his anger at himself, his frustration with what his life has led him to, and his desperation to find Mondo and make this right. He needs to see him. He  _ needs _ Mondo to hear his heart, to know that never again would Ishimaru even dream of letting such harm come to the man. If he had to mar such a beautiful life, full of love and potential, maybe he could make it up in an eternal afterlife…

And with a final scream,

_ I will break down the gates of heaven! _

_ A thousand angels stand waiting for me! _

_ Take my heart, _

...he drives the knife into the artery he has traced on his own neck so many times before. The scream is cut off in an instant as he presses in, down, and then tears the knife back out, blood flooding in where oxygen should be. The knife clatters to the floor by the other end of the counter.

_ And I'll lay down my weapons, _

_ Break my shackles to set me free... _

He knows he has a minute at worst, and thirty seconds at best. He will black out before then… 

_ I'll run. _

Kiyotaka lays himself down beside Mondo, eyes flickering to those fluorescent lights above them as the ability to breathe fails him.

_ I'll run _ .

While his body spasms, instinctively begging for any wisp of air, and while he feels the life leave him with the blood that pours out of his own wound, he brings his own fading eyes to look at Mondo. He wonders what the first thing he will see is… Will it be pleasant? Will it be what he really deserves? Will wondering change whatever the answer is..?

_ I'll run, run... _

Even if he never sees the love of his life again, Kiyotaka Ishimaru decides that it’s ok. He knows Mondo must be somewhere just as beautiful as the man himself is. And if Taka’s life was too scarred and ugly for that, then at least Mondo must be happy. And as long as Mondo is ok, he’ll be ok…

_ To you. _


End file.
